Burdens
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Set after "Workforce". Billy and Celes have always leaned on each other for support, but that may no longer be enough.
1. Chapter 1

Burdens

By Laura Schiller

A _Star Trek: Voyager_ Fanfiction

Copyright: Paramount

"I think the last batch of people are just about recovering now," Billy said cheerfully, steering Celes by the small of her back through Fair Haven's high street. "Look, there's Ensign Vorik, and there's Crewman Chell talking with Maggie. He wouldn't be smiling like that if he didn't have his memories, right?"

Celes followed the direction of his nod. Chell's blue face was indeed lit up with delight as he tucked a rose from the hologram's cart into his commbadge. But she could see further than that, things Billy wasn't even noticing: the Ashmores walking with a metre's distance between them along the cobblestones; Ken Dalby bursting out the doors of the Ox and Lamb as if he'd been kicked; Ensign Gilmore trailing her hand along the fence posts with a blank, lost look on her face.

She sighed. "It's Chell. He's always smiling, remember?"

Billy laughed and threw his head back. "Isn't it gorgeous? God, I missed this place."

Celes tried to see what he saw, but couldn't quite manage. How pale and cool the holographic sunlight was compared to Quarra's, how perfect the half-timbered buildings, and how nothing _smelled_ like it was supposed to _:_ not the horse hitched to the cart Seamus was driving past, not the flowers in Maggie's cart, not even the ocean that she knew was just a short walk away. Even the breeze touched her face precisely every ten seconds. It felt wrong. For that matter, so did the rest of the ship, but at least it wasn't as obvious.

"When I say I missed it, of course," Billy added, letting her catch his arm to steer him around a puddle, "I mean I _would_ have missed it if I'd been myself. What a nightmare. Can you imagine being mindless workers in that power plant forever? With those scientists messing around in our heads?" He shuddered.

"It wasn't all bad," Celes blurted out before he could stop herself.

"Are you kidding me?" Billy dropped her arm and threw up his hands in disbelief. "They violated us! I had nightmares for weeksabout ending up with Dysphoria Syndrome, only to find out that it was the _cure_ we should've been scared of. How is that not bad?"

" _I was happy there!_ "

Celes cringed at the volume of her own voice echoing shrilly down the street. Heads turned to stare at them; Gilmore flushed visibly before hurrying away. Lieutenant Paris looked concerned, even took a step towards them, but the heavily pregnant Torres tugged him into the Ox and Lamb instead.

"You were?" Billy stared at her with wide, wounded brown eyes.

"I _know_ it was fake," she forced her voice lower, "But it felt real enough back then! Am I the only one who can say it? My job was easy, my supervisor was _pleased_ with me for once in my life, I made new friends, I got to feel real sunlight every day and walk by the river … And it felt so safe there, remember? No phaser fights, no spatial anomalies trying to crush us, no alien intruders … " A lump came into her throat as she remembered the horror of watching the dark matter centipede crawl inside Billy, or the time he caught the Macrovirus, or any of the moments during this six-year ordeal that she'd nearly lost him. "For once, I didn't have to worry about you."

A sharp intake of breath from Billy made her flinch. She should have known that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"Billy, no, I'm sorry – "

"I didn't realize I was such a burden," he said, in a flat, controlled tone that gave her the shivers. "How nice for you, having the chance to forget all about me for those weeks. You should've said so."

"I didn't mean – "

"I thought _I_ was the one carrying weight. Who's been doing your sensor analyses for you every other night, eh?"

The unfairness of that – along with the grain of truth at the bottom - took her breath away. He didn't exactly do them _for_ her, but he _did_ contribute more than he should have according to Starfleet regulations. Her hands clenched in the folds of the ankle-length brown dress he'd convinced her to wear; her ribs felt squeezed in her corset. Ridiculous costume, she'd never wear it again.

"If that's how you feel about it," she said, clenching her shaking hands into fists, "I can manage them perfectly on my own from now on. And I'll sleep alone too! Computer, open holodeck doors."

She whirled through the doors and out into the corridor without looking back, or else the sight of those eyes would have made her anger crumble like a sandcastle in the tide.

=/\=

"Bravo, Mr. Telfer." A slow clap startled Billy out of his shock.

He looked around, saw nothing, and finally looked down. A human man in Starfleet engineering uniform crouched beside a nearby house, a section of white wall opened to reveal a holodeck control panel. A tool kit lay next to him on the grass. His buzz-cut hair, square jaw and sardonic voice added up in Billy's mind to the last person he wanted to see him like this.

"Harren." He gritted his teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"Repairs." Mortimer Harren grimaced, as if the word tasted sour, and typed a few lines on the control panel for evidence. "I'd ask what _you're_ doing here, but it seems pretty obvious."

"Why aren't you on Deck Fifteen writing your thesis about multiple Big Bangs or whatever?"

"Because this ship's a disaster zone and so are the people," Harren grumbled, "And our illustrious captain seems to think that making the holodeck a quote-unquote "priority" will somehow keep everyone from running amok. Doesn't seem to work on you, though, does it?" He stared up at Billy with narrow gray eyes.

"I'm not running amok."

Harren grabbed his tool kit, got to his feet with a creak and a grunt, and leaned against the side of the house with folded arms. "No, what you're doing is acting like an idiot, which even _she,_ " he jerked his head to where the holodeck doors had vanished, "Is smart enough to realize."

Billy had the urge to punch Harren for insulting Celes, but he knew perfectly well how hypocritical that would be at the moment. Still, the smug look on the engineer's face made him itch like a medium-sized allergic reaction.

"You don't even _have_ relationships," he retorted.

"You don't know me," said Harren. "Since our historical away mission, I've found that sociology makes almost as intriguing a study as cosmology. I've been trying to repay the Captain's investment in us. I'd have thought you and Tal would do the same, but you're as stuck in your co-dependent little bubble as you always were."

Some distant part of Billy wanted to laugh, remembering that away mission. Looking back, the last person he had expected to benefit from the Captain's motherly attention was Harren, who had sneered at her every step of the way. But it did make sense; Harren had been so lonely under his façade that being thrown together with his shipmates – even getting the chance to save their lives – must have been an epiphany. Billy and Celes, especially after going from friends to lovers, had never thought they needed anyone but each other.

 _The Captain's investment._ Billy thought guiltily of the single vision quest he'd endured with Commander Chakotay, trying to cope with his hypochondria. The hallucinations of Borg nanoprobes, the Phage, transporter malfunctions and other horrors had sent him stumbling out the door, and doing his utmost to avoid the Commander after that, who in turn had more important things to think of, like saving the ship. Billy had fallen back to his old habit of relying on Celes, which had felt natural at the time, but now …

"Co-dependent? Really?"

"When was the last time you talked to anyone besides her?" Billy opened his mouth; Harren held up his hand as a stop sign. "Off-duty, I mean."

"Uh … right now?"

Harren cracked a smile, which was oddly reassuring. "Touche. Look, there's a _kal-toh_ tournament running on Wednesday evenings in the mess hall. Ensign Kim started it. It's not a big event, though, so we can always use new players."

Billy was thrown. Had he just heard Mortimer Harren trying – in his own obnoxious way – to be friendly?"

"I, uh … I don't know the game."

"What, too difficult?" The engineer rolled his eyes. "All right, I understand. It _is_ a game of logic, after all."

"That does it. You're on, Harren. Time and place?"

"I'll comm you." Harren reached out and gave Billy a surprisingly hard punch on the shoulder. "Now are you just going to stand there, or are you going after Tal?"

"I - " He was about to protest that she needed her space, that he wouldn't know what to say to her, but all those excuses shriveled into nothing under Harren's sharp eyes. Billy was fed up with his own cowardice. The other man had a point; he should go.

"You're right."

"I'm always right," Harren scoffed. "Believe me … " For a moment, the veneer of arrogance seemed to crack, giving him the air of a lonely boy at boarding school waiting for someone to fetch him home. "You'll regret it if you don't."

A hundred brand-new questions occurred to Billy, but they could wait.

"Computer, open holodeck doors."


	2. Chapter 2

"Talbi? It's you, isn't it?"

The friendly nickname, derived from the Quarren word for "bird" because of her singing voice, made Tal Celes' eyes sting with tears. "Marla?"

Ensign Marla Gilmore, whose station had been right next to hers at the power plant, slipped into the opposite chair. The mess hall was almost empty, the lights lowered, as most of _Voyager_ was either already in bed or working the gamma shift. Only Celes, practiced insomniac, had been staring at a padd containing tomorrow's sensor analysis, and getting nowhere. Billy would have known what to do. She sobbed.

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump and wipe her eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Marla. "I couldn't help overhearing what happened earlier. I don't mean to interfere, it's just … I miss Quarra too."

"Y-you do?"

Marla nodded, her pale, thin face illuminating in a smile. "Remember when a bunch of us went down to the bar after work, and Umali tested her new cocktails out on us?"

"Oh, Prophets, those were good. Like iced chocolate with raspberry. It probably _was_ chocolate, too, or something close to it anyway - "

" – or T'Vora wouldn't have started dancing on the table!"

"We had to drag her home with an arm around each of us - "

" – and the next morning, we were so tired we could hardly read our consoles, and there she was, grinning like a Cheshire cat and talking about how Humans and Bajorans can't hold their liquor."

They cracked up laughing, quietly at first out of consideration for the few crewmen still scattered around the mess hall, then louder, until Neelix waved his dish towel from behind the counter in a _how-sweet-of-you-but-please-be-quiet_ gesture that made them fall guiltily silent.

Marla cupped her hands around her teacup in exactly the same way as she had held her cocktail glass that night. Her light blue eyes took on that faded look, as if she had bleached the color out of them by crying. "She lives on my deck, T'Vora, I mean. But she hasn't looked me in the eye even once since we got our memories back."

"Don't you think … maybe she's just embarrassed? Now that she remembers being Vulcan again?"

"Maybe." Marla sighed. "Or maybe not. I … I miss having a clean conscience."

Of course. Marla was from the _Equinox._

"They erased that?"

"Apparently they didn't want their workers with too much baggage."

Celes didn't know the details, but she knew that the _Equinox_ crew had tortured aliens for fuel trying to get home faster. She also knew that Marla had been the one to lead the mutiny against her corrupt commanders. Celes had wanted to speak to her for the entire past year, but hung back, afraid of saying something tactless as she all-too-often did.

How disturbing to realize that, if not for being mind-controlled by unscrupulous scientists, she would have missed out on having this woman as a friend.

Celes put a hand on Marla's arm. "You won't know anything for sure until you talk to T'Vora. You can't just assume the worst. All relationships take work, don't they? Friendships too. Who knows? Maybe _she's_ been waiting for you to reach out to _her._ "

Marla patted Celes's hand, removed it gently, and gave her a wise, motherly smile that made her look much older than her thirty-odd years. "Who knows? Maybe you're right."

"I am?"

"I'll follow your advice, but only if you will. Don't give up on that young man of yours."

Celes cringed. Consoling Marla had been a much-needed distraction, but now all the painful memories came rushing back. _How nice for you to forget all about me … I can manage perfectly on my own, and I'll sleep alone too!_

"I wish I _could_ sometimes _,_ " she blurted out, before she could stop herself. "It's just … it's just exhausting, you know? I love him, but I don't know how to help him. I'm not a counselor! But it also works the other way around, I know. I need him as much as he needs me. He's … out here, he's all I have."

She remembered the first time they had met, in their first year at Starfleet Academy. She had been sobbingin the student lounge at oh-two-hundred hours, scrambling to rewrite an essay on Prime Directive ethics that her instructor had labeled _childish, disorganized and lazy_. A slim, brown-eyed Human boy had shyly offered her a handkerchief – "I carry them everywhere, allergies, you know" – picked up her padd, made simple suggestions like ordering her ideas by paragraph, and told hair-raising stories about growing up on a _Galaxy_ -class starship that not only made her laugh, but fit into her essay like a hand into a glove. She'd finished it ten minutes before the oh-six-hundred deadline, and promptly fallen asleep on his shoulder. He hadn't moved a muscle, cutting his own first class of the morning, until she woke up – warmer and more contented than she'd ever been since leaving home.

 _How did we get here?_

"He's not _all_ you have, Talbi," said Marla, with the deliberate patience of someone stating the obvious. It was a tone Celes inspired often in her shipmates, but rarely with such kindness in the mix. "I'm right here."

"Oh, Marla … "

"It sounds like you two need a break," said the older woman. "Not a break- _up_ , mind you, just a break. When my sister had her baby, it was the same. Romance holos tell us we only need that one special person to be happy, but it's not true. We need a network – like … like the gel packs I've been trying to fix all day."

"How flattering," Celes teased, and they shared a companionable smile.

"Speaking of work, by the way, d'you need some help with this?" Marla tapped the padd which lay forgotten on the table in front of them.

"Oh yes, please! I was just about to toss the whole thing in the recycler."

It was a deeply grateful Celes who hitched her chair closer so she could see the numbers Marla pointed out. Billy had tried several times to explain the same processes to her, but a fresh voice made a surprisingly great difference. It also helped that Marla, who still remembered babysitting her small nephew back on Earth, had an almost limitless patience – enough to sit back and wait for Celes to reach certain conclusions by herself.

They were all but finished when a quiet, throat-clearing noise made them both look up.

"Excuse me," said Billy, standing with his hands behind his back, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "Celes, do you have a minute?"


	3. Chapter 3

_(Author's Note: I borrowed Billy's biography from Cheshire Cheese's story "Hypochondriac", and the name T'Vora from her work as well._

 _The "Kosst amojan" is the "Book of the Pagh Wraiths", an evil artifact out of Bajoran legends mentioned on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The idea of using it as a curse word comes from Uma McCormack's DS9 novel "The Never-Ending Sacrifice".)_

Billy knew that life was fragile. Growing up as the Chief Engineer's son on the _U.S.S. Europa_ , seeing your father in a coma, half-melted like a Dali painting from radiation after trying to repair an alien warp engine, you could not fail to learn that. Scanning for disease was his way of fighting for control over his life; there was some relief in preparing for the worst, whether or not it actually happened.

Still, there was nothing to prepare him for this: looking into the eyes of Tal Celes, his best friend, his line to sanity, his beloved, and knowing if he did or said even one thing wrong, he would lose her for good.

"I should turn in," said Ensign Gilmore. "Good night."

"Good night, Marla." Celes saved her work and shut down the padd. "Thank you."

They watched her go. As the mess hall doors opened, Billy caught a glimpse of a Vulcan woman in science green, stopping just before she bumped into Gilmore. They walked away together. Celes smiled.

"Was that … from the _Equinox_?"

"Yes. We worked together on Quarra. She's _nice,_ " said Celes, flaring up like a phaser primed to shoot.

"I don't doubt it." The last thing Billy wanted was another cause for argument. "Actually, I'm glad you're making friends. That's the thing I wanted to talk to you about?"

"Oh?" He saw her brace herself, knuckles whitening as she gripped the back of her chair, twisted around to face him.

"I … you were right." She relaxed, but only by a fraction. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dismissed your life back there. You have every right to miss it, even if it was fake."

"But it _was_ fake, Billy." Her shoulders slumped in a sigh of resignation. "It was a lie. I'd rather have a real life with you, no matter how dangerous it was, than a fake life without you. Remember that."

Hearing her say that was an unspeakable relief. He would have gone down on his knees to her, if it weren't for the risk of odd looks from Neelix and assorted graveyard shift personnel. Instead he collapsed into the chair Marla Gilmore had just vacated, pushed it as close as it would go, and took one of Celes' soft, cool hands between both of his.

"The truth is," he said, in a low voice so that no one would overhear, "Ever since the day we met, I've been terrified of losing you."

"Oh, Billy." Her dark eyes shimmered. "Me too. All the time."

"Not just because we're both in Starfleet, or even in the Delta Quadrant, but also … look at you, you're amazing. What do you even see in me?"

"You're kidding!" She laughed. "That's how _I_ feel."

"So back there, when you kind of implied you'd have an easier life without me … "

"William Montgomery Telfer, never say that again!"

She snatched her hand away, but only to take hold of his face and kiss him dizzy. When she let go, both of them were pink-faced and short of breath.

"That being said, though," she added thoughtfully. "Don't you think we should see other people sometimes?"

"Um. Depends on what you mean." He squirmed in his seat. "If you're talking polyamory, I've got to admit, that's really not my - "

" _Kosst,_ no!" She yelped, stifling a giggling fit with her hand. "I mean hanging out with friends, that sort of thing."

"Oh." He imagined his cheeks turning from pink to scarlet, like a cartoon character's, complete with steam coming out his ears. "Actually, on that subject, you'll never believe who invited me to a _kal-toh_ tournament earlier."

"Who?"

Billy grinned. "Mortimer Harren."

"From our away mission? That jerk?" Celes' eyebrows shot up almost to her strictly pinned-up hair. Remembering how Harren had called her "intellectually deficient", and the many nasty jokes they had privately shared at the cosmologist's expense, Billy felt a bit two-faced.

"He's a pretty smart jerk. He told me to go after you."

"Hmm." She tilted her head coyly. "Well, in that case, maybe I can forgive him."

 _If you can forgive someone who built a machine that turned sentient beings into engine fuel …_ But, socially awkward as he was, even Billy knew better than to pursue that line of reasoning right now. Besides, wasn't that what _Voyager_ was all about – including people? Wasn't he keeping his fingers crossed at this very moment that the formidable senior officers who'd started the tournament would include him?

"See, this is perfect," said Celes, brightening up like a small moon. "I hate _kal-toh_. You go, and tell me all about it later. In non-technical terms, please."

"You sure you won't get bored?"

"I'll find something to do." Her eyes danced, and it took considerable self-control not to be jealous. He didn't have the monopoly on making her happy, after all.

He tapped his commbadge. "Telfer to Harren."

"Son of a … !" groaned Harren. "I was _sleeping._ Six hours are essential to peak cognitive functioning. Never do that again."

Celes couldn't have looked more horrified if Billy had suggested boys' night out with a Kazon sect. It was priceless.

"Hey, Mort," he said, rushing in where Captain Janeway feared to tread in the matter of the engineer's name. "Sorry I woke you. About that _kal-toh_ tournament, when was it again?"

Tellingly, Harren let the nickname slide. "Wednesdays, sixteen hundred, mess hall. Did she forgive you yet?"

"I'm right here, and I did," said Celes, putting her hand over Billy's heart above his commbadge, and speaking into it so close that her hair brushed his chin. "Thank you, Harren. You're nicer than I gave you credit for."

"I'll try not to be insulted," said Harren crisply. "Can I get back to sleep now?"

"Of course," said Billy. "Good night!"

"Harren out." With a final chirp of the commbadge, his voice disappeared.

Billy and Celes exchanged a mischievous look.

"Mort?" she inquired. "Even his _mother_ doesn't call him that." Her imitation was uncanny.

"Don't ask."

She took him at his word, gave him a look that said _you're adorable_ , and kissed him on the nose. "All right, Mr. Telfer. May I have the pleasure of seeing you to your quarters?"

"Certainly, Miss Tal. Don't forget your padd."

"Oops!" She slapped her forehead, stuffed the padd into her pocket, and took his hand in hers as they stood up to leave.

They always walked this way, and it tended to make Billy oblivious to almost everything except her touch, but this time he made an effort to pay attention. Ensigns Kyoto and Golwat nodded politely as they went past; Neelix tossed away his towel with dramatic relief as he was finished cleaning the galley for the night. He had to remember that he and Celes were more than just a couple; they were part of a crew, a greater community in which they had a small, but significant role to play. They were works-in-progress, but then again, who wasn't? Celes' imperfections were what made him love her – and, he believed, vice versa.

"I don't envy Seven of Nine, you know," said Celes suddenly.

"Huh? Where did that come from?"

"Oh, just thinking. That Borg thing she has about searching for perfection. I feel sorry for her. Is there anything more boring?"

Even after being friends for nine years and lovers for seven months, the synchronicity of their thoughts still amazed him sometimes.

"I know," he said, "Exactly what you mean."


End file.
